Thank You For the Memories
by NerdAngel
Summary: The boys do laundry (spoilers for season 3)


**A/n: This story is for my very good friend LilyBolt. I not so subtly asked you what you would want to read in a fanfic and you said something just kind of everyday, "extraordinary in the ordinary." I don't know if I did that, but I hope you enjoy it none-the-less.**

 **Takes place after 3X13 "Ghostfacers"**

Thank You For the Memories

Sam and I rolled into a little hole-in-the-wall town in California just a little before two in the morning. On most days we would just say "fuck it" and get ourselves a motel room and sleep off a hunt, but this one had left us looking like Carrie after prom. Two guys, one tall and one sasquatch, covered from head to toe in blood asking for a room was probably going to end with us in the slammer. Sam, who had been sitting silently in the passenger side seat of Baby since we climbed in, turned to look at me as I pulled up to a building.

"What're we doing?" He asked me.

"Laundry," I responded simply as I popped open the door and slid out.

"Uh in case the lack of lights wasn't an indicator for you, this place is closed." I gave my little brother a look that proved to him I knew exactly what the laundromat's status was. He returned the look with his own signature bitchface.

"Since when has anything ever actually been locked for us? Are you interested in playing guess the motel front desk agent's move when they get a load of us? Because I'm not. In case you haven't noticed, we look like we just came back from a slaughter house." I sniffed the air close to my brother. "Woof," I coughed. "And you smell like one too."

"So do you," he countered.

"What are you, five? Besides," I walked around to unlock the trunk and flung it open grabbing my personal duffel bag, slinging it over my shoulder, and picked up our lantern, and a thing of ammonia I had bought a few hunts back. "I smell like awesome victory." I smiled as Sam scoffed and snatched up his backpack rolling his eyes.

"What was that about five?"

"Oh bite me, you're just bitter because I totally killed more vamps then you," I teased, handing him the lantern so I could shut and lock Baby up again.

"So, what's the plan?" Sam asked looking back over at the laundromat. I dug around in my pocket and pulled out my lock pick.

"Care to do the honors?" I offered it to him.

"No," his voice cracked slightly as he looked at me taken aback. "This is your stupid idea, you do it."

"Fine, wuss." I looked to my left, then my right, then got to work picking the door. He may not have been fully on board with my idea, but even with that being the case, I knew Sam would be standing next to me keeping an eye out for anyone. It didn't take me long to crack it.

"What if there are alarms?" My little brother asked nervously. I stared at him and pushed the door open. Of course I tried to be careful of any bloody hand marks left after doing so. I would make sure to do a clean through once everything else was washed. He froze as if expecting for there to be some noise indictating a break in. There wasn't.

"See? There's no reason for this place to be armed, it's not like we're breaking in and stealing. In fact we're breaking in and GIVING them money. They should be damn thankful...and open all hours if they don't want a B&E on their hands." With that I pulled my flashlight from my jacket pocket, clicked it on, and crept into the building. The place was tiny and dingy, kinda like every motel we've ever stayed at. There were about eight large washers on the right wall and eight dryers standing to the left with a small round table located towards the back left corner. A few metal laundry carts were lined up by the entrance, almost causing me to trip. I threw my duffel down on one of the dryers and turned to open one of the washers. Sam followed suit. Holding my flashlight between my teeth, I unzipped my bag and began tossing all of my clothes into the giant machine. Once I finished with mine I removed the flashlight from my mouth and held it so that Sam could do the same and then so he could get the lantern lit up. With two machines loaded with the right amount of quarters and enough light that I didn't need my flashlight, I began to untie my shoes. I kicked them off and pushed them out of the way with my foot so that we didn't trip.

"Alright, here goes." I began to unbutton my dark blue over shirt and then took off my undershirt. I opened the bottle of ammonia and dipped my dark green t shirt in and then dabbed at the blood soaked over shirt. Once I had gone over all of it, I tossed it into the washer. Next I unbuttoned my jeans and slid off my socks.

"Whoa!"

"Don't get too excited there Sammy, boxers are staying on." I repeated the same process with my jeans as I had with my shirt, dabbing at the blood with my shirt.

"Alright, your turn," I chimed trying to keep my voice from shivering. It was freezing in there, especially when all I was wearing were boxers and my amulet I never took off. It was exceptionally cold with chilly brass meeting once warmer skin.

"What?!"

"You heard me, skin the cat, let's go." I held my hand out for him to place his clothes in.

"You can't be serious. First we break into the place, now we're stripping down in it?"

"Exactly. It's not like we could do this when it's occupied during the day." Sam didn't move to undress, he instead just stared at me like I had been speaking to him in some crazy foreign language. "Come on, we don't got all day. Just-leave your thong on huh Samanta?" He rolled his eyes at my jab at him and reluctantly began to unbutton his green and rustic orange striped shirt. He shrugged it off and handed it to me. I dabbed the blood on his shirt with my ammonia drenched one and tossed it into his washer. His undershirt was next, then he kicked off his shoes, and tossed in his socks. He stopped and eyed me. I motioned for him to hand over his jeans. Slowly he unbuckled his belt, slid it off, then got to work removing his pants.

"For the record, this is stupid," he mumbled crossing his arms over himself.

"Don't worry Sammy, I promise I won't draw you like one of my French girls," I winked. He curled into himself further and I couldn't help but laugh. Sam had never been comfortable with being naked or even being in his underwear around anyone else. Not that I did it all the time, but on those nights when it was 110 degrees, I'll admit I slept in only a pair of boxers. What did I care? But Sam refused and instead sat suffering in sweats and a t shirt. Once I was done, I tossed in the green shirt I had used to clean everything with the ammonia, and we both closed up the machines and let them run.

"Now what?" Sam's tone was unmistakably short and uncomfortable. "We sit here in our boxers in the dark and wait?"

"Pretty much. Unless you want to break in to the liquor store next door. Sam threw me a bitter look of disapproval and its then that I'm reminded our clothes aren't the only things that need cleaning. "You may want to wash up," I pointed at my brother's face. He swept a hand across his cheek and then looked down at it. "You missed a spot, like your entire face. You just smeared it."

"Not helping Dean," he snapped. I rolled my eyes. Sammy may be a gigantic man, but he was just like he was back when he was just a tiny thing. It was refreshing for me to see that he was still the Sammy I know, even though I knew he was trying his damnedest not to be. I was fluent in speaking Sam Winchester and embarrassed, irritated, and tired Sammy equals short fuse bitchy Sammy. Nothing a little food and clean clothes wouldn't fix. We would be loaded up in the Impala with a thing of rabbit food and shortly after passed out in the passenger seat in no time. I just had to keep him distracted.

"There's gotta be a restroom in this place somewhere." It was as though saying it had brought it out from some invisible shield. I clicked on my flashlight again and aimed it to look in the front corner, resting it on a single white door with a plaque that read 'restroom' on it. "Ha, Yatzee! Ask and you shall receive. Am I good, or am I good?" I gloated. I didn't need to look at my brother to know that he was no doubt rolling his eyes beside me, but I looked anyways. Sure enough, I caught the tail end of his eyes turning to the wall to his left. Damn I was good! We made our way up to the restroom, which hadn't been locked, and slipped inside. I killed the flashlight and popped it against the light switch. It turned out my eyes were very well adjusted to the little beam, and this over head light was murdering them now. Hearing Sam hiss next to me told me he was in the same boat. It was one of those one stall deals where it wasn't even a stall, just a flat out bathroom with one sink and one toilet.

I turned to face my brother and it was then that I could really see how lucky we had been that we hadn't encountered another person. His face was covered in blood, I knew that, but somehow he had managed to also acquire a literal piece of monster just above his eyebrow. It was coated in vamp juice, and as I continued to exam him, I noticed there was more in his hair. Trying hard to keep my face neutral, I pointed at the vamp leftover and in a bored voice I said "you've got red on you." As I suspected that comment earned me yet another eye roll, for anyone who's counting, that's the fourth one since we got here; followed by a glare that should have been able to turn me to stone. "Really Dean?" He shot back.

"What? You do. And before you go on one of your stupid rants about how Shaun of the Dead is not a good movie, it is." He scoffed and turned on the faucet, the water came out at first in a tiny dribble then squirted into full blast.

"I wasn't going to say that," he said as he splashed water on his face. "But it's not."

"You might want to consider corking it on two accounts. One, you're going to get vamp juice in your mouth and that shit's disgusting. Secondly, you're wrong, it is too a good movie."

"Whatever." Sam stood over the sink washing his hands before splashing water onto his face, scrubbing at it vigorously before moving on to his hair and neck. When he was done, he pulled a few handfuls of finicky paper towels and started drying himself off the best he could. While he did that, I took my turn at the water. But of course I had to check my own face for vamp chunks. I didn't see any, just blood coating my hair down to my neck. It almost looked like my own skin had been pulled from me like some dumb horror movie. I cupped my hands, catching the water and throwing it on my face. It was like I was tossing ice onto myself. But I didn't say anything, it wasn't the first time I had to wash up in water from Antarctica and it wouldn't be the last. I snatched up my own handful of paper and wiped myself down as well.

Only a few minutes after we cleaned up, the washer stopped and we got to work transferring our clothes to a dryer.

"It's strange, isn't it?"

I grabbed a handful of soaking wet clothes and tossed them in, Sam did the same with a dryer next to mine.

"What?" I hear my brother ask.

"How clothes can get thrown through the ringer and come out looking pristine."

"What do you mean? It's just soap and water Dean," he said simply, closing the door and putting in quarters to start it up. I did the same with mine. My gaze is on my laundry as I watch it spin around.

"I know, but it throws them around and around and around, and then once it's done being tossed around in the soap and water, it gets picked up and tossed into the heat and pushed around there." I pulled my gaze free of the hypnotic machine and turn to look at Sam who in return is giving me a look I hadn't expected. It's not mocking, it's not confused, hell, it's not even an eye roll.

"That's true, it seems pretty harsh going through all that," he says with a nod. "I guess they are 'put through the ringer' as you put it. But they're sturdy, durable, no matter what comes their way, they make it through everything, every time. And they've been doing this for a long time too you know? Years." His hazel stare is fixed on me. But he's not looking at me, so much as he's peering right into my soul. I quickly move my eyes back to stare at the swirling clothes, it's much less intense and has no way of staring back. I can still feel his eyes on me.

"Except for the socks. They kinda just...I don't know...disappear and sometimes you're left with one. It's like the dryer grabs them and pulls them into some pit where they're never seen again." At this, I can feel my brother's eyes intensify, and I'm grateful that his face is slightly shadowed by the lantern light so that I can't see if they're watering.

"That sock," he starts in a slightly shaky voice "always finds its way back." It's silent and now I can feel my own eyes begin to tingle and I hope that I too am not completely visible to Sam.

"Makes sense," I shrug casually, not wanting to upset my little brother, just in case he can see me. I've learned that sometimes it's just better to smile and nod and tell him what he wants to hear, what he needs to hear, than the actual truth. "After all, that sock has another sock it's gotta be there for right? They're a pair. Can't have one without the other." It was silent between us, and now I sneak a glance. Sam has his head bowed but I can see him nod. I have to do something, say something.

"You know, I could really use a drink." So it's not the most subtle way of changing the subject, but it's not a lie. I really could use a nice cold one.

Sam scoffs.

"We're not breaking into the liquor store right next to the laundromat we broke into," he said. Sammy knows me, I refuse to sit around and get emotional. It's not me. Sam gets that. I don't necessarily know that he likes it, but he gets it.

"Fine. There's a vending machine just a little beyond that between the liquor store and a grocery store."

"Ok...so, what? You're going to go out in the freezing cold in nothing but your boxers and go get a soda?" His voice is drenched in sarcasm. In response, I ball up my right fist and place my left hand straight under it.

"Hell no! You want a soda, you go. I'm not Rock Paper Scissoring for this."

"Come on Sammy, live a little."

"Dean-" I don't move from my position and for the fifth time since we got here, my brother rolls his eyes before mirroring my hands. We lift our fists and slam them on our hands three times and then make our move. Sam's expecting scissors, it's my usual, but this time I throw him a surprise with paper. His own hand stays a ball.

"Coke, if you don't mind." I chuckle with a shit eating grin on my face. My brother isn't angry, definitely surprised and judging by the size of his eyes, terrified. I place a few quarters in his hand and give him an encouraging pat on his back. His hand squeezed the money in a death grip and he slowly inched towards the front door, wrapping his arms around his body again. He gives me one last look before taking off. I peer through the window and watch as he crams the quarters into the machine, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes shifting back and forth frantically. When he returns he's panting and shivering, stuffing the soda into my hand and trying to blow warm air into his own. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" A death stare from my brother and the display of his middle finger told me he disagreed. I popped the tab, laughing slightly and took a sip. Instead of being greeted with the refreshing bubbly taste of victory, I was greeted with the bitter flat taste of trickery. I spat out the big swig I had taken, while Sam jumped back just enough that he didn't get any on him. "What the-?" I pulled the drink up to get a better look at the label with a look of pure disgusts while Sam exploded into a laughing fit.

"Oh man, you shoulda seen your face Dean," he managed to say before cracking up again. I gave him a mock laugh, but if I'm being honest, his own true one, is one of my favorite sounds. I can't remember the last time I heard him really laugh the way he was now.

"What was that? Canned ass?"

"Only you would know what that tastes like," he retorts. "It's ice tea, unsweetened. You know what they say, if you want something done right..." Sam shrugged and smirked at me like he had made some 'honest' mistake.

"Don't send your bitchy brother," I countered. A loud buzzing sound reminded us why we're standing in the middle of a lantern lit laundromat in nothing but our boxers. Sam finally managed to compose himself and we made our way back to the dryers.

With our clothes now all cleaned, Sam quickly began throwing on a pair of jeans, a shirt, one of his plaid flannels, and a pair of socks. I did the same. We rolled our other clean clothes up, shoved them into our respected bags, collected our lantern, cleaned up any signs we had been there, and left the laundromat. Once we were out of the building and back on the road, Sam let out a long sigh.

"Better?" I asked.

"Much."

"See, I told you. What would you do without me?" I teased, not realizing what I said until I turned to look at my brother, a playful smirk in place. It quickly faded when I saw his face. His eyes were like two large orbs as he looked over at me and the corners of his mouth were turned down. I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn't this time. What would I say? I'm sorry. You'll be fine. No, I couldn't. I wasn't sorry. If I had the chance to do it over, I would have traded my soul for his life all over again. I always would. To say he was going to be fine, I could only hope he would be. What WOULD he do without me? Would he continue to hunt? Would he go back to school? Would he fall apart? He had been on his own before, how well had that turned out for him? Besides, he hadn't been completely alone in college. Dad had checked up on him, and I got to a couple times. His whole life, someone has always been watching out for him, what was it going to be like when he had no one? No Dad, no Mom, not even me.

I tried to push those thoughts from my head as I turned my attention back to the road ahead of me and switched on the radio. Time was not on my side, and it was ticking like an atom bomb. All I could do in the meantime was help Sammy prepare for a life without me as best I could and continue to create memories for him to remember me by, even if it was something as stupid as breaking into a laundromat and doing something as mundane as laundry.

 **A/n: I really hope you liked it! The title wasn't from the song I promise, but a thank you for the memories so far. Also, it's fitting for the boys here too I think. Thank you for everything you have done for me and again for your amazing gifts! I swear I'm working on yours, here's one at least. I love you!**


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